Hart: Museum founder didn't like being buffaloed

In 1963, Paul Matthews was the lone black kid among a sea of white applicants lining up to interview for a West Point commendation. An official scanning the room pointed to him and told him his application was rejected. No reason was given.

"That was the best thing that ever happened to me," Matthews now says of that day as a La Marque high school student. "I joined the ROTC at Prairie View. It was a wonderful experience."

At Prairie View, a brief passage in a book launched a lifelong passion. "I read two paragraphs about the Buffalo Soldiers, and I thought, 'Man, the world needs to know about these people,' " Matthews told me this week.

Not long after, he saw a Buffalo Soldier's regimental cap pin for sale. "That was my first piece," he says. "It just kinda grew from that."

"It" refers to his 3,000-piece collection of military memorabilia, which focuses on the all-black U.S. Army Cavalry units best known for aiding the westward expansion of the United States. During a military career which included a stint in Vietnam, and his subsequent career as a pharmaceutical sales director, Matthews slowly but steadily gathered items of historical significance. Bit by bit, he collected so much stuff that he realized he could fill a museum.

So he did. Upon his retirement from the pharmaceutical giant Merck, Matthews took $45,000 of his own money to purchase a house on Southmore Street to found the Buffalo Soldiers National Museum. In recent years, the museum, now a non-profit, has raised more than half of its $4 million goal to renovate the Houston Light Guard Armory on Caroline Street and move the museum into it.

Then, last March, Texas Land Commissioner Jerry Patterson contacted Matthews with a proposition: He wanted to sponsor a state license plate honoring Buffalo Soldiers, with proceeds benefiting the museum. Matthews gladly accepted.

'Genocide' accusation

But Patterson also sponsored a second license plate - to be emblazoned with a rebel battle flag and benefit the Sons of the Confederacy. And last April, when the Confederate plate met with resistance, Patterson told a state board that the Buffalo Soldiers had engaged in "genocide" against Native Americans during the Indian Wars of 1860 to 1880.

Like Confederate soldiers, Patterson argued, the history of the Buffalo Soldiers isn't entirely politically correct. "The point is," Patterson testified, "that both the Buffalo Solders and the Confederate Veterans, of which I am a descendent, served honorably."

'A dirty business'

Even for someone with Matthews' preternaturally sunny disposition, the comments rankled.

"It doesn't take a genius to see he did this so he can sanitize his application for the Sons of the Confederacy," Matthews said of Patterson's sponsorship of the Buffalo Soldier plates. "I don't like to use inflammatory words. But I say this: It's indefensible if you compare the two. It is shameful. Politics is a dirty business."

To Matthews, there is no comparison: "Buffalo Soldiers were units in the U.S. Army. They took a pledge to preserve and protect the country from all enemies, foreign and domestic." Confederate soldiers, of course, wanted to split the United States in two to protect the institution of slavery.

Did Buffalo Soldiers engage in genocide? "They didn't wake up one morning and say we have a vendetta against Native Americans. They didn't go to Washington, D.C., and advocate for this policy," Matthews said. They served their country, one-tenth of the manpower of the U.S. Army during the Indian Wars.

There is a place for the Confederate flag, Matthews argues: in a museum. It is part of history, but it doesn't belong on a state-sanctioned license plate.

Last week, the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles Board apparently agreed, rejecting the Sons of the Confederacy application, after emotional testimony from African-American organizations calling the rebel flag a "racist relic." The Buffalo Soldiers plates were approved.

Irony in old armory

Contacted Thursday, Patterson said he's pleased that the Buffalo Soldiers will get the recognition. A Vietnam veteran, like Matthews, Patterson said he's had a print of a Buffalo Soldier in his office for nine years.

But he didn't deny that he had hoped one application would help the other. He believes neither cause is "politically correct, but both should be honored."

Now, Patterson's maneuver will help Matthews with his latest mission - the renovation of the Caroline Street armory, for his museum's expansion.

Ironically, the old armory, which was built in 1925, was named for a militia that was founded shortly after the departure of Union troops from Houston. In the beginning, the Houston Light Guard consisted mostly of former Confederate soldiers.

Telling me the history of his new building, Matthews couldn't suppress a laugh: "The war is over."